Arriving at the end of the world

The next morning we had an early morning wake-up. Our plane
was at 9 AM and we needed to be at the airport at least 2 hours before
departure for our international flight into Ushuaia, Argentina.The owner?s son gave us a lift at a cheaper
fare than we would have been charged by a taxi. After a 30 minute ride, we
arrived at the tiny international airport of Puerto Montt with its three
boarding gates. We checked-in, paid our airport fee and walked up to the
sitting around. Our boarding time came and went and still there was no call for
our plane. We were surrounded by an American tour group, so we knew we hadn?t
missed it. The fog that had surrounded the airport all morning had caused
flight delays and we would have to wait an extra hour before we could board.
Our flight finally departed an hour and half late and I was a little worried we
wouldn?t make our transfer in Punta Arenas, Chile but all went well with us
having 45 minutes to spare. Phew!

The next flight was only 1 hour long and we were soon flying
over the mountains and valleys near Ushuaia. We have officially entered into
our fifth country since the start of our round-the-world. We were even more
excited to be in what termed itself, the most southern city in the world. We
had heard from other traveller?s about its wild beauty but we weren?t prepared
for the sight of the towering, jagged mountains, the snow-capped peaks, the
dense forests, the wind-swept rocky beaches, and the overall sense that if you
squinted hard enough you could see Antarctica right over ?there?, so close you
could almost touch it. There was definitely a last frontier feel as we
disembarked from the plane. For the first time in months, we were surrounded by
other people wearing fleece jackets, hiking boots and hiking pants as if it was
trendy, normal wear for a plane ride. Beat up backpacks and duffel bags were
the majority on the baggage carousel as we waited for our bags. This was the
gateway to Antarctica and many passengers were here to spend a few days before
boarding one of the many ships anchored at port, waiting to return to the
silent continent.

Once through security, we made a bee-line to the bank
machine to withdraw Argentinean Pesos but alas my card wasn?t being accepted by
the ATM. Not knowing what our options were, I approached the taxi driver and
explained our situation. She offered to stop at a bank machine in town before
continuing on to our hostel. It was supposedly common for travellers to have
issues with that particular bank machine. Luckily she was right. Loaded with a
new currency to memorise she dropped us off at the hostel we had hoped to stay.
It was called Hostel Antarctica (quite apropos no?) but unfortunately, they
hadn?t received our email request in time and were fully booked. They let us
leave our heavy backpacks while we went looking around the main drag for a
double room. We finally found a place after inquiring at 4 other hostels of
varying degree of quality. We lucked out at a small place, two blocks from the
main strip. We had a bit of a price surprise when we asked about prices, there
wasn?t a private room in a hostel anywhere in town for less than 50$. We had
been told that Argentina was cheaper than Chile but that didn?t apply to
Patagonia. This was going to be the most expensive rate we had paid yet during
our trip. We swallowed hard and paid our room fee for the next 4 nights. After
a full day of travelling, we were tired and happy to go to sleep early. There
was always tomorrow for exploring and discovering this famous city on the
backpacker?s trail.